


Negotiations

by LawfulHungry



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Exhibitionism, F/M, Hypnotism, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Star Wars: The Last Jedi Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:02:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28790664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LawfulHungry/pseuds/LawfulHungry
Summary: After the defeat of the First Order, Rey Skywalker’s heightened emotional awareness gives her a lust she can’t alleviate while she’s spending so much time and energy working Luke's old water farm. Negotiating the release of a kidnapped BB-8 from a Tusken raider gives her an opportunity to solve two problems at once.Commission for Mystery Street
Relationships: Rey/Tusken Raider
Kudos: 5





	Negotiations

Slender fingers whipped themselves into a frenzy, slick with sweat and more intimate fluids. They pushed, probed, caressed, reaching into their owner’s favorite places with exactly the pressure she liked. Inside her, just beyond her reach, the familiar knot began to form. Far from ignoring her emotions, she let them drive her, powering her desire and her muscles. Already they crept through her from her light head to her curled toes, though they screamed loudest inside her hips. Her arousal was a fire she couldn’t put out, all-consuming only if she let it get out of control, and today she considered something very close.

Images danced behind her eyelids. Somewhere between fantasies and memories, perhaps even ideas from beyond Human understanding, they gave her fuel, just enough for her to wrap her thoughts around them and fill in the gaps. She thought of the man she knew, the one to whom she was tied. Long, dark hair draped over wide shoulders. A body chiseled from stone, built through years of faithful exercise and training. Eyes clear enough to reflect her face and so deep she could never look away. A voice to anchor her, pulling her up and down at will, dragging her into despair and taking her above water just as quickly. She remembered him, felt him, knew him still, even as his essence faded into the cosmos. He was part of her, and she him, and she needed nothing more than to know it in that moment.

“Ben…” she whispered, letting her head fall back on the bed. Her knuckle pressed against her clit, guiding her fingers to the place she needed them. She pictured his hand against her, his breath instead of the desert air, his body instead of the thin sheets. Her back jumped, an early sign of her impending release. It lurked at the base of her spine where it had sat for days, ready to take her over the moment she allowed it. Days of work and meditation were good for her body and mind, but her arousal always lingered, growing and growing, and now it was moments away from asserting itself. She thought of Ben again, of their connection, of how much she needed him. She bit her lip and arched her brow, and her leg—

A shrill alarm clanged through her small chambers, and in an instant she was on her feet, alert and ready for a fight. No great evil burst into her bedroom, nor even a small one. She reached out with her mind, searching for something amiss, and the only thing out of the ordinary was a quiet, metallic hum, like a gear turning, or a cylinder rolling over…

Rey sighed and bent to pick up the can she had kicked over in her pre-orgasmic spasm, an understandable if regrettable result of her lack of control. Lust wasn’t a new concept to her, not exactly, but pleasuring herself hadn’t been a priority during the fight against the First Order, and during her training she had developed a more potent understanding of her own emotions. Everything seemed greater now: contentment, dread, rage, even arousal. Her formerly-quiet solo trysts had grown into something more complete, more satisfying, but also more enthusiastic, and she hadn’t quite remembered to keep knickknacks and tools out of the range of her flailing legs. And louder! Gone were the days of quiet whimpering, replaced by moans and gasps and shrieks and long exhortations in languages she only knew for the swear words she shouted _very explicitly_. It was a good thing Luke’s old farm was somewhat remote. If he had been a city boy who left her a centrally-located apartment…suffice it to say she wouldn’t be taking care of it for long.

Need still tugged at her, angry at its abrupt denial, but the adrenaline rush caused by her own eager clumsiness was not the excitement she needed. She put her fantasies aside, vowing to get back to them the next time she had a free moment. Unfortunately those times seemed few and far between. Starting up a long-defunct farm wasn’t simple, and it might be days before she made it to bed with enough energy to do anything but fall unconscious. Her list of tasks loomed large, and if she wasn’t going to get off, she might as well get to work.

“BB-8?” she called through the building. Nothing answered her but the swirl of sand as she shuffled outside, shielding her eyes for a long moment until they adjusted. Though Tatooine wasn’t Jakku, the sun beat down on her just the same, a spotlight she had to handle every time she moved inside or out. The heat was something else. She much preferred Jakku’s cold nights to Tatooine’s endless, sweltering days under a pair of glaring suns. Her clothing, white and breezy, had served her thus far, but if the sandstorms were as bad as the locals warned she’d have to find herself a thick cloak before too long.

Once she could see properly she scanned the farm for signs of her inherited astromech, the droid-of-all-trades she used as a companion as much as a general workhorse. Usually she could find him puttering about, tending to any minor tasks she had forgotten and surveying the environment as best he could. His concave tracks wound paths through the sand, rolling this way and that over the property. She sighed and traced them, following the breadcrumbs from building to building and calling his name.

Frustration bubbled in her chest, and she closed her eyes to tamp it back down. Emotions weren’t the enemy, but in this case they weren’t helpful either. If BB-8 wasn’t answering, he was probably just absorbed in some job. She certainly wasn’t upset that he had taken the initiative on a chore. She knew the true causes for her irritability, and they sat on a shelf in her room, or at the end of her leg, or somewhere under her stomach, whichever held the most blame for interrupting the personal time she craved. A part of her wanted to go back and try it again, since BB-8 seemed too occupied to assist her, and there was a certain lure to abandoning her job, tossing off clothes so her skin could breathe again, and rubbing herself until her eyes rolled back and her back ached from arching. But it wouldn’t be responsible, and a Jedi was responsible. Usually.

Her droid’s trail snaked into the desert, and she faced the possibility she had ignored as long as possible. BB-8 wasn’t the bravest thing in the world, but his get-up-and-go streak had sent him into the sands more than once. Rey didn’t know whether he was checking for other people, or searching for resources, or just admiring the landscape. He tended not to answer when Rey asked. But if he was out among the dunes, he probably couldn’t hear her calling his name, which meant she had to trudge after him and bring him back before she could get anything done.

She tugged on her shirt repeatedly, letting breaths of comparatively cool air—in that they were merely hot, as opposed to scalding—waft over her chest. The desert proper lacked even the minor shade the farm had, and the farther she traveled from the buildings, the longer the sand grew before her. After just a short walk it seemed like it extended forever in every direction, with only BB-8’s trail to lead her and her own footprints alongside. The droid likely knew exactly where he was, and if she did get lost, his advanced navigation systems could get her home. Another reason to gather him as quickly as possible and return to the farm before—

Rey stopped short. The trail ended, several feet back. She hadn’t even noticed, lost in her musings. It took only a few seconds to put it all together: the smooth divot moving in a roughly straight line, then bending sharply, then rolling in a few tight circles before it disappeared; the giant tracks, bigger than both of her hands put together and splayed out, set in two easy, shuffling rows; the smaller footprint, made by rough shoes or boots, appearing out of nowhere and leaving just as abruptly. BB-8 hadn’t returned because he couldn’t. He’d been stolen, likely by one of the Tuskens, the sand-people she had heard about from the locals.

Anger welled up again, and she suppressed her short fuse. This was annoying, but not a disaster. From what the locals had told her, the Tuskens didn’t smash droids indiscriminately. There was a reason they had taken BB-8, some goal they needed to meet. The tracks suggested only a single raider on banthaback, heading in an obvious direction. If she hurried, she could catch up to them.

Rey considered going back for a weapon and decided against it. She couldn’t afford the loss of time, and she barely trusted a blaster after her time learning the lightsaber. Ideally, she wouldn’t have to fight at all. The Tuskens weren’t barbaric, just territorial. Like the Jedi long before her, she could be a negotiator, and she would strike some deal with the Tusken and have BB-8 back before what passed for evening on Tatooine.

She set off running, then slowed to jogging as soon as a gulp of scorched air hit her lungs.

* * *

The raider was not hard to find. Banthas were powerful, hardy creatures, but certainly not sneaky. Rey spotted it some distance away, at rest alongside one of the wide, craggy mesas she had seen along the horizon but never visited. Thankfully, she didn’t smell it either. The creatures themselves smelled fine, as fine as a hairy beast of burden in the desert sun could, but their food was among the most revolting scents Rey had ever had the great misfortune of experiencing. Even as she turned over negotiation scenarios during her jog, she had dreaded the possibility of enacting them within the cloud of the bantha’s latest meal. Seeing an empty dish half-tilted against the rock face was as much a relief as any.

The bantha didn’t notice her, or if it did, it saw no need to acknowledge her. It nodded, or just lowered it head, and let her investigate, looking for her kidnapped droid. Only a grunt met her casual inspection, the moment she needed to confirm that neither BB-8 nor his abductor hid somewhere in its woolly hide. That left only the rocks themselves, and with a great sigh she began the climb.

In truth the mesa wasn’t too tall, though everything felt higher in the dizzying heat. Handholds were prominent, and she moved from ledge to ledge as easily as walking. It made sense. A Tusken had taken the same route without the benefit of her agility and with at least fifty kilograms of gear, protection, and stolen droid. A secure site away from common travel routes was smart. An _inaccessible_ site was not.

She pulled herself up to the top, a relatively flat platform with scattered mounds as tall as her waist. Piles of gear littered the area, more than one person could safely carry. Rey guessed they were the result of several other raids, or perhaps multiple Tuskens working together, a possibility she hadn’t considered when she chased what she thought was a lone raider. She would consider the ramifications of a possible Tusken base so close to the farm some time later. At the moment, she decided the raider standing a few meters away with a rifle pointed at her head should occupy her full attention.

“Whoa!” She raised her hands and sat up slowly, resting on her knees. “I’m not here to fight.”

The Tusken’s expression was unreadable, in that he or she didn’t have one. All of their features hid under loose brown robes, a metal mask, and enough carrying pouches to give a smuggler pause. There were no eyebrows to raise, no lips to twitch, and barely even a chest to rise and fall with nervous breaths. She could only see what how they acted, and what they did was keep the cycler rifle trained on her with a finger on the trigger.

Rey kept her voice slow and even. “I’m here because you have my droid. I want him back. I’m willing to trade.”

They still didn’t respond. From behind a rock, BB-8’s trademark beeps inquired and broke into a slight frenzy. Neither Rey nor the raider looked.

“Is there anything else you want?” She resisted the urge to back over the edge, to give herself more room to work. She wanted to negotiate, but nothing triggered a fight-or-flight instinct like being threatened. Her eyes kept focusing on the barrel near her instead of the face far behind it, and her toes braced in case she needed to bound away in a hurry. “I have other things at the farm. I can also make repairs, if you have an problems with your gear. And the water we’re getting—”

She caught her breath. It had slipped out before she’d thought about it, a direct threat to the very way of Tusken life. Claiming she had water, a precious substance the Tuskens treated as their birthright, was akin to insulting their religion. Her legs tensed again, and her hands prepared to wrest the weapon from the raider’s grip.

It didn’t react.

Rey blinked, then sighed. “You don’t speak Basic, do you?”

She waited a long moment for an answer and received none. The lack of a response wasn’t due to the raider’s suspicion or general intransigence, it was because the raider didn’t even know what she was saying. All her dreams for negotiation flew out the airlock, leaving her with no weapon and no plans. Out of options, she locked eyes with the Tusken’s goggles and reached out to him through the Force, hoping she could sway him, or at least let him understand her through a more thorough connection.

Memories flooded through her. _A childhood among the raiders. Learning to shoot, missing often. Training the bantha, slowly, slower than the others. Growing old, coming of age. A ritual. Joining the rest of the tribe, but suffering through their mockery. Creating an outpost. Performing simple tasks over, and over, and over, and over. Leaving the outpost. Hope. Need. Orange and white. Joy. The thrill of the hunt. The climb. An intruder—_

Rey gasped and returned to the moment. She understood him now, if not the other way around. The raider was one of a small group who had come to the area only recently, within the last few weeks. Though he was an adult, and he had performed the coming-of-age ritual as all Tusken males had, the other men treated him like an afterthought, a lesser. He was bad with a rifle, he lacked a killing instinct, he didn’t have the creativity a raider needed to take something and get out alive. Fed up, he’d gone on his own hunt toward her farm, and when he found BB-8 he thought he’d finally found a way to prove himself. The droid wasn’t just a petty theft to hurt a trespasser, nor was it part of a raid for usable parts. The droid was a means to an end. It was this Tusken’s salvation, the method by which he would join the tribe as a fully-respected warrior, and he would defend his catch even if it cost him his life.

This complicated things.

But there was something else in his narrative, an underlying thread Rey wasn’t even sure the raider himself recognzied as such. For him, it was likely just the way things were, no more important than thinking “oh, things fall down when you drop them”. He wasn’t good at killing, which made him less than the other warriors. He couldn’t be trusted to keep himself alive on his own. He had to do menial work instead, because it was the only way he could contribute. The other men went on raids, and he maintained their outpost. He did the work a Tusken woman often would. He wasn’t like the other men, because he wasn’t _manly_ , or whatever passed for the same concept in the Tusken mindset. He wanted to prove his _manliness_. That was what he wanted, needed.

And if Rey had learned anything listening to other scavengers and her bosses and other people on her planet and people in bars and shops and the idle conversations of military men who didn’t realize a woman was present, the fastest route to proving manliness was sex. The ubiquity was undeniable, and she saw enough traces of it in the Tusken’s mind to know his thoughts leaned the same way. A raid was a way to prove his manliness, yes, but so was defending the tribe from an attack, routing some especially vicious trespassers, or claiming a woman and making her his. And certain women were more desirable than others; one Tusken occupied his fantasies more than others, but he also imagined dominating a Rodian, or a Twi’lek, or a Human, because the other warriors told stories and made jokes along those lines. If he had sex with a Human woman, if he brought one to heel, his position in the tribe would be assured. Or, this was what he believed, and his belief was enough to give Rey a new plan.

It was, she admitted, not her smartest plan. But it seemed like the best of any number of bad ideas, the easiest way to get BB-8 back without getting into a fight or incurring the wrath of an entire tribe of warriors looking to avenge their beaten ally. Truth be told, a part of her liked the idea. She still itched with unfulfilled release, and tapping into the Tusken’s roaring sexual angst had brought her own back to the surface. It would likely be days before she could attempt to satisfy herself again. It was the safest way to get BB-8 back. It preserved the sanctity of all life and avoided unnecessary violence. It might even fend off future raids against the farm. As she rationalized it, this was the calm, practical, most Jedi-like solution.

A previous generation of Jedi might disagree with her, believing her to actually be fueled by lust, and to avoid being manipulated by her emotions she had to detach herself from them entirely and embrace a life without sexual temptation. But they weren’t around any more. She got to decide her own path, her own way to live as both a Human with needs and a Jedi with responsibilities. And, to be honest, delving into a life of monastic chastity when she had another option _right there_ didn’t exactly appeal to her at the moment.

She waved her hand, trusting in the Force to transmit an intention her language couldn’t. “You don’t want to kill me.” It always helped to begin with something the person already believed, solidifying their existing thoughts instead of creating new thoughts wholesale. It built trust, unity, a connection between them. She saw the raider’s shoulders relax a centimeter, than tense again. “You don’t want to kill anybody. You want to show the others that you’re a true warrior.” The words gave shape to the idea, a sympathetic agreement they shared. She knew he resisted, trying to reconcile two notions he thought incompatible. Her dry lips smacked as she prepared for the true push, the moment when she inflicted her mind on his, and she slowly waved her hand to distract him from the energy working its way into his thoughts. “You can prove yourself by claiming a Human woman.”

Rey couldn’t see the raider’s face behind his mask, but she saw the realization in his body language. She didn’t give him a specific command, no. It wasn’t “you want to have sex with me.” A thought like that would be too disjointed, too alien. Even if he didn’t recognize her as a Jedi who had performed some mental sleight of hand on him, he would think of it as a stray idea like so many others and disregard it just as quickly. This way she just gave him a logical bridge, connecting his lifelong dilemma with his current situation. She pointed him in a direction and let him walk the rest of the way, seeing that there was a Human woman right in front of him, unarmed, presumably worried, at a loss and unable to resist him should he decide to use his position, his power—his manliness—to subjugate her and earn himself a place among the warriors. She didn’t give him a command, she helped him see a present answer to a long-running question.

This, as she understood it, was the Jedi way. Not flinging things around with magic and jumping real high, but subtly altering events for the good of all. A gentle breeze, not a swinging sword. If this gentle breeze just so happened to leave her sweaty, tired, and immensely satisfied, all the better.

The raider considered her again, this time with a different eye. Not that there was much to see under her utilitarian desert-friendly wear: a patch of skin on her chest too shallow to show cleavage; the swell of breasts barely visible past the lower edges of her wrap; pants pulled tight around her crotch, but not so tight as to give anything away. Unless the raider felt an inordinate attraction to (somewhat) bare biceps and (half-) naked calves, he likely found little to overtly ogle. She waited patiently as he assessed her, waiting for him to make the next move…and waited, and waited. A full minute passed while he dithered, enjoying the view without going further, and kneeling in the blinding sun only tested her patience further. If she could just talk to him, or vice versa, she could—

“BB!” she gasped. She’d almost forgotten he was there, silent as he was while she negotiated. “BB, can you translate?”

 _Beedle boop beep!_ BB-8’s comforting whistles at least meant something to her: “Maybe. Does it speak Astromech?”

The raider did not respond. Rey tilted her head toward the rock but kept her eyes on the weapon. “Looks like he doesn’t. Can you tell me what to say?”

 _Squeeee?_ “How?”

It was simple enough to Rey. She didn’t speak Tusken, but she could mimic the sounds. If BB-8 could tell her what sounds to make, she could…oh. “Fair enough. But you understand him?”

 _Boop whirrr beep-beep._ “If he ever spoke, sure.”

She sighed. It came down to gesticulation, then. She jabbed her finger toward the rock. “That — is — my — droid. I — want — him — back.”

The Tusken barked at her, and BB-8 beeped a translation to Rey. “Stay back!”

“Okay! Okay.” She shuffled toward the edge of the cliff. Falling didn’t bother her; she knew how to land, and she knew the drop was coming. But she glanced behind her nonetheless, trying to let him stay in control. “Please. I just want my droid.”

The raider’s face turned just a bit, enough to see where she was pointing, and he growled again. “You want my prey.” _Biddle boop._

“Yes!” she nodded emphatically and pointed at herself. “Mine!”

The raider shuffled a step back, eying the rock again. Rey didn’t understand what it said, only BB-8’s translation, but she thought she felt some curiosity in his voice. “You own this droid?”

He seemed, at least, to understand yes and no. Or perhaps just nodding, or her joyous change in expression. She didn’t know, so she repeated all three. “Yes! Yes, I do.”

“It knows what I say?”

“Yes.”

He lowered his rifle, from her head to her midsection. “You want your droid back.”

“Yes.”

“I took it. It is mine now.”

“No. No, I can trade! Um…trade!” Rey moved her hands back and forth.

“Exchange?” he asked, and she nodded. “You have nothing I want. Nothing…” he paused, and she felt eyes crawling over her body. “You want the droid badly?”

“Yes.”

“How badly?”

“Very. Oh, uh…” she held her hands far apart.

“Are you willing to do anything to get it back? Anything I say?”

“Yes.” Even if it wasn’t true, it was the correct answer.

“Hm…will you give away your body?”

Rey hesitated intentionally. The longer she pretended to think about it, the more in control he would feel…she hoped. “Maybe? I’m not going to be a slave.” She pushed her wrists together, as she might in a pair of restraints, then pulled them apart and shook her head.

“No, not a slave. Slaves are no good. I want to use you. Have you. Do what I want with you.”

She bit her lip. She wasn’t reconsidering her plan exactly, though it had become real with startling speed. Pushing him off the cliff was still a viable alternative, if she didn’t mind a whole tribe of Tusken raiders seeking her out for revenge. But no. She made her decision, and the energy stirring in her chest thanked her. “How long?”

Explaining her question took several steps, with a lot of pointing at the suns, but he got it eventually. “I own you until sunfall, and then you get your droid back.”

“Yes.” She didn’t even think about it.

“Good.” He set his rifle on the ground next to him, still within reach. “Remove your chest garb.”

Rey almost laughed at the hesitation in BB-8’s chirps. It was asking a little much of an astromech droid to more or less narrate a man’s statements during sex. “Thank you, BB-8,” she offered, and he gave her a soothing if concerned whirr in response.

She grabbed her wrap. “No!” The Tusken—and thus BB-8—interrupted. “Not that cloth. The garb under it.”

Rey paused. He wanted her to remove her shirt, but not her wrap? Without the shirt under it, the wrap barely covered anything at all…she saw it a moment later. Tusken men and women covered themselves head-to-toe. Nudity was a sin, or a taboo, or something similarly dire. Of course he wouldn’t have her strip completely naked. But removing only select clothes, letting him get at everything without stripping her completely bare, apparently that was fine. She couldn’t suppress a smile at his clever workaround, and he didn’t object to her obvious mirth. Fine with her. She had been prepared to play the part of the put-upon damsel, giving herself to the triumphant raider in an act of sexual deference. If he didn’t mind her playing along and having fun, even better.

It took some doing to untuck her white shirt and pull it over her head, and her sweaty skin didn’t help matters any. When it finally hit the sandy rock face, she turned to the Tusken again with a sly smirk. The soft fabric of her wrap sat light on her shoulders and draped over her chest, a soothing texture she’d never had the pleasure of experiencing. No longer confined by skintight white cloth, her breasts returned to their natural shape, too small to really push against the fabric. She bent forward and gave him a look down her true cleavage, almost all the way to her navel. Her hands cupped her breasts and squeezed them, rubbing the cloth into her erect nipples and nudging her back to the heights she had abandoned in her room. A quiet moan bubbled on her lips, moments from escaping when the raider commanded “remove your lower garb.”

She stood, quickly enough to bounce her chest at him. Her fingers snaked into her clothes, under where the cloth wrap curled around her waist like a belt. They reached her waistline and pushed, inching her pants down her hips. He stared rapt as more and more skin appeared, a dark contrast winning the fight against her bright clothes. When her waistline sat just above her thighs the paused, only a deep breath away from showing her quim to an alien she’d never even met, and with a burst of resolve she made the final plunge. The raider made a guttural sound, one BB-8 wouldn’t or couldn’t translate, when her bare snatch came into view, and for once she thanked the Jedi standard of meticulous personal grooming—granted, the actual rule didn’t _exactly_ describe how to tend to one’s private areas, but it did say Jedi should be “presentable in all ways” whenever such grooming was reasonable, and her interpretation of the rule happened to align with her own preexisting maintenance habits. She couldn’t tell whether he appreciated her for her hairlessness or just because she was the only naked woman he had ever seen, but when she pulled her pants over her boots and stood before him with little more than a long scarf to protect her modesty, she had no doubt of his approval.

The raider growled at her, looking her up and down. “Wonderful. Human women truly are lusty sluts.” The words somehow didn’t sting so much when they came in BB-8’s high-pitched beeping, and she laughed at the absurdity of it, which he apparently interpreted as approval. “Joy? You admit it, then. Surely you would not hesitate to please me in all the depraved ways your people do.”

Rey licked her lips, tasting the salt on her face. “What do you want first?”

He ignored her, but he also didn’t understand her, so for all he knew she had simply given him an extended agreement. “I want to sample your mouth. Kneel in front of me.” She sashayed over to him, oozing femininity with every motion. She had him fully engrossed in her, held captive by each step she took, and when she reached him, she lingered a moment to let him appreciate her up-close before she fell to her knees. He rummaged around the front of his robe, and she practically panted at what was to come. “Cover your eyes. Use your bare mouth to pleasure a true man.”

She remembered again the Tusken prohibition on nudity. That is, it wasn’t a prohibition on _being_ naked as much as _being seen_ naked. Whipping it out in the middle of the desert was fine as long as nobody witnessed it. Rey untucked her wrap, shortening the length draped over her thighs, and bound her face with it instead as a makeshift blindfold. Blocking the sun felt nice all on its own, even without the anticipation crawling through her body as she heard him extract himself. He grabbed her hair and pulled her forward, where her cheek collided with something firm yet yielding, with an unmistakably musky scent. A large object prodded her lips, and just as they made way, the Tusken barked, “please me, Human slut.”

She extended her tongue and took a test lick, flinching already in anticipation of his taste. To her surprise no unwashed, sweaty odor filled her mouth, just the pleasant flavor of skin. Encouraged, she tilted her head and suckled on him, drawing him closer to his full size. It seemed to her like a traditionally Human shape, with a bulge along the front and a ridge before the domed head and veins throughout. Even his balls were familiar, hanging loosely underneath his base where she could tease them with just the tip of her tongue. It formed a clear picture in her mind’s eye, and she knew just where to direct her lapping and suckling to get maximum results.

What she didn’t expect, necessarily, was his size. He carried no arm-thick, lightsaber-long, lung-battering tool by any stretch of the imagination. But neither was he under-endowed, or even average, from what she could tell using her (admittedly low) experience with Human cocks. When she opened her mouth to take him in for the first time, her teeth grazed his skin, and it took a concerted effort to open her jaw wide enough. She couldn’t fit much more than his head, not unless she planned on dislocating something. He didn’t push her, either. He stood back and let her work, content enough with her pace to keep his hands off her except for a palm resting lazily on the top of her head. She tilted back and looked toward him, the closest she could get to eye contact with her blindfold on, and another growl told her she was on the right path.

Her fingers returned home, brushing against her slit, and the familiar electric tingles prompted her to do something with her other hand besides let it languish on her thigh. It snuck up the raider’s thighs and poked at his shaft, waiting a moment for his response. When he didn’t jump back in fear she grabbed his dick, stroking it in time with her bouncing head. He twitched in her grip, something she thought might be the beginning of his orgasm, and when nothing gushed into her mouth she went at him harder. His head thumped against her soft palate, a futile attempt to go deeper. The unspoken threat stirred her from head to toe and she lost her pace for a moment, torn between giving a steady blowjob and rubbing herself so hard she caused friction burns.

A small drop of drool escaped her mouth. She slurped it back in, and the lusty groan the raider returned shook her to the core. She should have seen it earlier; if water was so sacred to Tuskens, what more deference could she give than lending her own water to pleasuring him? More drool leaked out, and this time she used it as lubrication, trapping it under her fingers and dragging it along his dick. If anything he grew even thicker against her tongue. As spit formed she let it go, dripping down her chin and coating him from tip to base, and she accentuated her blowjob with loud slurps and gulps. It was sloppy work, but effective. His hips twitched repeatedly and his balls tensed, warning signs she happily encouraged, and such brazen admiration for his cock even curled her toes, fueling the thirst her fingers were moments from sating.

“Down!” he ordered her like he would a dog, or a bantha, through the music of BB-8’s electronic chirps. She sat on her heels and panted aloud, with strings of saliva hanging from her lips and connecting her to something she could only imagine. “Present yourself for mating.” Rey shuddered at the word. _Mating._ It was so impersonal, primal. Nothing like the lovemaking she imagined with Ben. Yet she fell to her back and propped her legs up, with her thighs open and begging for an occupant. Blindfolded, with only a flimsy strip of cloth to poorly protect half of her modesty, she waited for the Tusken to climb on top of her. Rough burlap, or something like it, scraped the insides of her legs. A weight settled against her crotch. Low breathing came from somewhere above her, muffled by his mask and her own pounding heart. Something slick and wide, covered in wetness—her wetness—rubbed against her pussy lips, searching for an entrance. She lay her arms on the rock above her head, flexing her hips to push them higher, and then with half a thrust he was in.

Rey screamed more from surprise than pain, though even her preparation hadn’t rendered her slick enough to take him comfortably. More screams, short and sharp, followed when he bucked, embedding himself fully in the one place hotter than the afternoon suns. He waited while they caught their breath, and Rey’s stomach hardened under the strain. He felt even larger in her quim than in her mouth, and he jabbed dangerously close to her womb, and he didn’t spend the rest time kissing or groping or trying to please her in any way. But as she grew used to him she could concentrate more on his sheer girth instead of worrying about how much farther he could dig, and when he moved she felt the pressure change against her bud. Either he had fantastic instincts or his position just happened to rub her—or maybe she was guiding him through the Force, quietly, almost unconsciously. Whatever the cause, he was doing it just right, and his next thrust drew a shout of honest, thankful lust.

There was no calm in his movement, no delicate stroke of an experienced lover. He rutted into her like it was his first time, and it likely was. His hands slipped away and caught themselves several times, pawing at the rock while he looked for the best way to hold himself upright. He slid out once or twice, stabbing her sensitive hips before they funneled him back into her pussy. His rhythm ebbed and flowed, slowing or outright stopping when he was close and growing frenetic whenever he could stand it. He acted heedless of what Rey wanted, taking her, using her. She was his convenient outlet, a means to an end. Her pleasure didn’t matter to him, not for a moment.

But through a combination of coincidence and Rey’s own percolating arousal, almost everything he did helped her along. His erratic pace kept her engaged, pounding her clit when she needed it and letting it recover between rounds. His constant adjustments let him scrape her insides from newer, different angles, and when he found something she liked she could position her hips to encourage more of it. By leaving the rest of her alone, she could do whatever she wanted, whether rolling her head from side to side or clawing at the sand or arching her back. He didn’t care whether she kneaded her breasts or left the small mounds alone to bounce inside her chest wrap. Moaning, squeaking, biting her lips, everything she did with her mouth got the same reward. He was a machine, a sex toy on random settings, but a flesh-and-blood one with heat and a body instead of the erotic droids she knew. He was better than a sexbot, and worlds away from her own teasing fingers or unfulfillable fantasies. She didn’t know when she started bouncing to meet this thrusts, or when her monosyllabic screams turned to begging. She only knew she wanted more.

The Tusken’s voice rumbled behind his mask, and his thrusts grew even more ragged. Sensing the end, Ray wrapped her legs around his waist and linked her boot-clad ankles behind his back. She was so close, agonizingly close. He wasn’t going to pull out and leave her hanging. She needed to finish, to finally let go of the knot below her stomach, just past where his thick head reached. His hips ground against hers, pushing them nearly off the ground. He lost his full range of motion and Rey didn’t care. She just wanted his shaft rubbing her, or his bone grinding her clit, the constant abrasion her body craved. Her body seized from her toes to her fingertips, an all-encompassing tension at the point of no return. For a long instant she lost control, separating from the Force and the Tusken and her own body and the whole world in an empty moment of selfish harmony, and then she exploded. Everything focused on her pussy, and the knot unraveling there, and the iron rod jammed all the way to her belly. And just like that it was gone, returning her to the rock face with her worries finally gone and a wide smile.

The raider shuddered atop her, though she couldn’t tell what was his cock emptying itself inside her and what was an aftershock from her orgasm. She came back down while he finished, and when he stopped moving she relaxed her death grip on him. Something dripped from her pussy, and while blindfolded there was no way to know how much was his seed escaping and how much was her own wetness. She resisted the urge to wipe it away, taking no action while the raider pulled out and stood. Once the shuffling stopped and BB-8 translated “get up, Human woman”, only then did she unfurl the blindfold.

The darkness ended, and the sun shone even brighter than normal. Rey squinted and shielded her eyes, pulling herself upright with her other arm. Her wrap had fallen out of place, revealing a wide valley of cleavage between her small breasts, yet she made no move to fix it. She just pointed to the rock and asked “my droid?”

BB-8 bleeped in response, and the Tusken grumbled but followed her finger. He dragged a large sack into view and pulled out an electronic scrambler, just the sort of thing to keep a mobile droid from escaping. BB-8’s motor hummed to life and he rolled into view, chattering nonstop about how happy he was to see Rey. He didn’t comment on her nudity; in fact, he didn’t even seem to notice it. Astromech droids probably didn’t have any protocols for this sort of privacy. Rey would have to keep that in mind.

“Thank you,” she smiled at the raider, who stood a little straighter than before. Her mind reached for his again, finding no more turmoil, only contentment. She sighed, pleased at a fine negotiation, and stooped to gather her clothes—and halted as a rifle aimed at her face from just out of reach.

Rey blinked, still straining to see anything through the sun. Another Tusken had arrived, apparently while she was checking on the one who had kidnapped BB-8. She took a step back, abut another voice yelled at her, another raider behind the first. And another. And another. Out of the vague shapes around her a dozen raiders appeared, all armed and staring down at her, ready to fire.

The raider nearest her growled something, and when she didn’t respond, her lover did instead. They went back and forth a moment, and the lover pointed at her droid. The new raider gestured, and BB-8 explained: “They want to know why you’re here.”

She knew what the wrong answer was. If they all thought she was there to get back something of hers, she was an enemy, and they would kill her. Or, at least, they would try their very best, and she didn’t like her odds. One raider with the drop on her was trouble, but twelve? Talking her way out of it wouldn’t be easy, but if she could come up with a reasonable explanation, they might.

The lover said something, and BB-8 paused before he translated it. “This Human is my sex slave.”

The raiders around her made an abrasive sound almost in unison. She assumed they were laughing. “You?” The leader responded with an incredulity Rey could hear even without understanding a word. “You claimed a Human woman? And not just that, but this Human, with her smooth skin and supple body, wishes to be your slave?”

Rey sighed internally. It was an awful, awful plan, but it could still be the best one she had. She crawled over to the lover, swaying her ass back and forth as she moved across the rock. Cum dripped from her pussy and covered her thighs, and she fought back the blush crawling over her face. Raiders tilted their heads, watching her breasts jiggle under her and following her rear all the way to the lover. She grabbed his hips and leaned against him, slouching like one of the dancers in the sleaziest advertisements. The lover stared at her for a moment, and she looked up at him with naked deference and winked.

She could almost feel his heat through his clothes when he placed a hand on her head. “Do you see? This woman needs cock, and I am man enough to give it to her.”

The spokesman lowered his weapon, and the others followed suit. “Prove it, then,” he grunted. “If you are a man, fuck your woman now. Show us how you have tamed this Human.”

Rey’s excitement surprised even her. She’d thought her lust was gone, finally satisfied by actual sex with an actual person, and she would be able to go days or weeks or perhaps months more without getting so desperate again. But seeing the men around her, knowing what they thought of her body, hearing what they said about her (even through beeps and bloops) reminded her that arousal wasn’t a problem she could solve. It was part of her, like her knowledge or her joy. It was part of the Human—and Tusken—condition. She could draw it forth or set it aside at will, to a degree, and her current situation lent itself to satisfying it even further. Yes, she would have preferred a more intimate setting. Yes, there were partners she would much rather have. No, she didn’t really enjoy being ordered around, insulted, treated like a piece of meat. All that aside, it beat the alternative, and a part of her mind even looked forward to it, just for the chance to try on the kinks and see how they fit.

So she called BB-8 over, rested her upper body on him, and spread her knees apart. Her naked ass shook in front of the lover, inviting him over. She didn’t look back, keeping her face intentionally away from any display of nudity he needed, and she licked her dry lips, hoping he understood the gist of her offer even if he didn’t know the words: “Fuck my Human quim while your whole clan watches.”

The lover clawed at his clothing, and in an instant he was behind her with something hot, hard, and familiar prodding her rear. He sank into her pussy, pushing even deeper in the new position and bottoming out in the first thrust. He grabbed her waist and yanked her back, smashing her ass against his rough clothing with a loud smack. Growls of surprise and fascination erupted around them, and every face turned just enough to protect the lover’s modesty while keeping Rey’s body in view. Heedless of his clanmates the lover thrust forward, with no sign of fatigue from their previous fuck. He took her just as forcefully as he had the first time, asserting his right to her body.

Rey didn’t complain, not for a second. She tilted back her head and screamed aloud, putting on a show for her armed observers. She oversold her initial moans for the sake of her role, a little sultrier than her lover’s performance truly deserved. As her body responded to him those fake moans gave way to honest gasps and loud utterances, complimenting him and begging for more. She pushed back against him, shoving him as deep as he could go without rupturing anything, and bent her back to angle her ass even higher. They reacted to each other without words, feeding off each other’s naked lust, driving each other higher and higher with a physical connection Rey didn’t even know she’d been missing.

Her hips pulsed and she rolled her eyes, already feeling the first waves of another orgasm. He played her like an instrument, massaging and scraping and splitting her pussy in a perfect rhythm. His hand left her waist, then landed on her ass, a crack almost as loud as the shriek that followed. She gripped BB-8’s head and pushed against him, clinging to his body so she had something keeping her rooted to the ground. “More…” she panted, rolling her sweaty body from head to toe. “More! Do it more! I love it! Yes, yes, yes!” Her breasts swung against her loose wrap, feathering her erect nipples with soft cloth, and her ass shook with every fierce slap, whether from a gloved hand or the Tusken nearly fucking her into the ground. She was close, so achingly close, ready to lose herself with the smallest stimulation. The murmuring raiders reminded her of their presence, and when she realized what lascivious thoughts her performance would give them, it was all she needed. “Fuck me! Yes, fuck your Human girl! I’m yours! I’m all yours! Yes, fuck, I’m cumming! I’m cumming, I’m cumming, I’m…!” Words failed her but her voice didn’t, switching to a joyous scream that stopped and started as she gasped for enough breath to fuel it. For an instant there was nothing but pleasure and she was one with it, then the raider’s cum splashed against her cervix and the aftershocks rattled her spine. Long moments passed as he unloaded into her again, this time with a dozen witnesses, and Rey slowly came back down while he twitched, groped, squeezed, and finally pulled out.

She clung to BB-8 until she heard the lover secure himself in his robes and stand up. “There,” he said, “you see how I have made her mine.”

The spokesman made a sound BB-8 couldn’t explain, something like clearing his throat. “Ah. You have…surprised us. We thought you did not have the…the instinct you need to hunt with us.”

“You thought wrongly. My instinct has another focus, but it is still the instinct of a man.”

“Yes. We see this now.” There was a general round of muttering. “While your actions impress, you cannot plan to take this Human to live with the clan as your mate.”

The lover looked at her, and Rey waved at him, using her powers to lay a seed in his mind. “No. No, I will not take her. She would be a burden. She will return to her farm, with her droid, and they will be safe from our raids, for I have claimed her.”

“Of course, yes. There are other farms.” The spokesman grumbled. “Perhaps you can…instruct us in finding such women of our own?”

Rey could feel the relief emanating from the lover, even without the Force. “Perhaps.”

“And will you be visiting this Human’s farm, that you may seed her further to maintain your claim?”

He looked at her, and Rey thought hard. The Tusken raiders would leave her and BB-8 alone from now on, as good a result as she could hope for. She didn’t really need to engage with them any further. They could continue with their lives, and she with hers.

But the desert was lonely. Rey knew that better than most. It might be nice to have a visitor now and again. Maybe she could learn a little of the Tusken language, and they could share news. Or they could trade, his findings for her mechanical expertise. It wouldn’t hurt to have an extra pair of hands on occasion. And if after the conversation and the exchanges and the chores they found themselves with a little extra time, maybe they could retire to her room, or they could rest in the shadow of his bantha, or he could take her against one of the moisture extractors, or all three, over and over, ensuring her itch never went unscratched again…

She picked up her discarded clothes while the raiders turned away, suddenly ashamed of her nudity. Only the lover didn’t avert his gaze, and he scanned her body from top to bottom and back again before looking her in the eye. Rey slipped a hand between her thighs, scooped up a fingerful of his leaking cum, brought it to her mouth, licked it clean, and winked.

The lover growled, and BB-8 chirped. “I certainly will.”


End file.
